


Goodnight Starlight

by thekingslover



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alcohol Abuse, Alcohol as a Coping Mechanism, Alien Sex, Alien!Cas, Bad Parenting, Bottom!Cas, M/M, Rimming, Sheriff!Benny, Slow Burn, human!dean, top!dean
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-17
Updated: 2014-06-19
Packaged: 2017-12-20 12:15:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 18,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/887160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thekingslover/pseuds/thekingslover
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean may or may not be falling in love with the runaway alien prince who crash-landed in his backyard.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. This Can't Be Real Life

((Additional Warnings: This chapter includes a vague one-night stand between Dean and an OFC. This takes place before he meets Cas and is completely consensual (and vague, did I mention vague?).))

Ever since he was a kid, Dean liked to watch the stars. He found peace in the thought that entire universes and planets and peoples could exist out there, unbeknownst to everyone, far away from the hardships of human existence. The aliens of his imagination never lost their mothers or had to watch their fathers succumb to alcohol addiction. They never had to raise their little brothers like they weren’t still kids themselves.

As Dean grew older, his dreams of lush purple planetscapes and beautiful alien princesses and princes faded. Dean’s imagination stopped altogether the day his father died, when the final word uttered to his oldest son was “disappointment.” Dean walked right out of the hospital and to the bar across the street. Hours later, only his little brother Sam was able to pry him away from the bottle.

Dean couldn’t stay away forever, though. Once Sam and his judgmental bitch face - he meant that in the most endearing big brother way possible - had moved off to college, Dean was at the bar more than he was at home, the damn big house with too many memories and not nearly enough people.

Everyone always left Dean. His father’s dying words felt like a brand and Dean often wondered if others could see it as soon as they looked at him. That at least would explain the mistrustful and sometimes outright contemptuous glares he often received from total strangers. He didn’t like to think that they only hated him because they hated his father. Dean was his own man, worthy of his own dislike.

Dean worked eight hours at the garage before heading to the bar. That was his life now: work and drink, drink and work.

A woman in a tight top sat on the stool beside him, eyeing him up like he was a perfectly seared prime rib. She placed a hand on his wrist and though she smiled, the smile never reached her eyes. “Lonely, honey?”

She walked out of his house at two in the morning while he sat on the front porch in a pair of blue jeans, smoking a cigarette. She saw him there but offered only another fake smile, smaller than the first. She was gone before he could return the gesture.

Dean ignored how bright the starlight shined, that he could see his beloved Impala as clearly as if at sunset even though his street lacked streetlights. Instead, he retrieved the bottle of Jack from beside his chair leg and took a long swig.

Whiskey killed his father. Dean hated the stuff. But it was the only thing that let him escape his own life, if only for a little while and always with unpleasant consequences. Dean traced his fingers around the square base of the bottle. Squares were supposed to be safe, but then, so was the house you grew up in - so were your dreams.

Dean stood abruptly and tossed the bottle from the porch just to watch the square break against the pavement of the street. It shattered on contact. Broken bits of glass dusted across the blacktop. The light reflected on the broken edges and the road started looking much like the night sky.

As a kid, he used to wonder what it’d be like to have an alien friend. Dean laughed bitterly as the thought occurred to him now. “Disappointment,” he reminded himself and turned back toward the house, knowing he’d find another bottle of whiskey in the cabinet above the kitchen sink.

He walked through the living room, where an infomercial whispered from the television, and his father’s chair, reclined, still sat there, untouched. The answering machine on the end table flashed a red “10,” all Sam, Dean knew and didn’t bother. Sam was free now. Dean wasn’t going to rope him back.

Dean’s joints cracked as he reached for the new whiskey bottle. He barely had his fingers around the neck when a bright light flashed from outside the window. His eyes slammed shut, blinded, and the bottle smashed into the sink. He opened his eyes to blue and purple spots. When he blinked them away and looked into the sink, he watched the last sip of fresh whiskey disappear down the drain.

“Oh, come on,” he growled at the sink, himself, and life in general. Some freak burst of lightning and now he was destined to be sober for the rest of the night? He clawed at the edge of the counter, grip tight with frustration and cursed good and loud.

A second later, the very ground under him shuddered as if in response. The windows and dishes rattled. The walls creaked. Dean braced himself against the lip of the sink, but the quaking stopped as soon as it had really begun.

When Dean could stand steadily on his own two legs again, he headed for the front door. Outside, the stars and glass still twinkled, but a twinge of gunpowder clung to the air, thickening it. Dean coughed and walked to the edge of the porch. Smoke thickened in the field behind his house. Barefoot, Dean hopped from the porch to the grass and followed the billowing dark trail to its source.

The further he ventured into the thick smog, the more he felt crumpled dirt under his feet than grass. The earth seemed to dip and Dean stopped at the start of what appeared to be a deep crater. Sitting at the edge, he felt as far in as he could with his feet. His toes touched something scalding hot and yanked himself away, falling backwards onto the grass in surprise.

He ran to the house and returned three minutes later with sneakers and a fire extinguisher. He’d seen the specials on the education channels. Meteors came in loud and hot, and Dean wasn’t about to let his father’s field burn down because of some space rock.

He hopped into the crater with extinguisher blazing and slowly the smoke dwindled.

The fire extinguisher slipped from Dean’s hands and clanked - the distinctive sound of metal on metal - as it hit the ground.

“Holy shit,” Dean said as he stood there on a goddamn _spaceship_.

It was a metal disk, six or seven feet wide, and he couldn’t tell how deep. It bulged in the center under what seemed to be a hatch though there wasn’t a handle to open it. As Dean stood there gawking, a ring around the hatch deepened with a whoosh of air. Then the hatch popped open. A figure rose from the opening, backlit by pale blue and flashing red lights.

The humanoid shape reached out one arm toward Dean, said something indiscernible in a deep gravelly _male_ voice, and then collapsed.

Dean stood there staring, waiting for the thing to get back up while also recounting how many drinks he had that night - the answer, not enough for this to be happening. When the thing didn’t move from its hunched over obviously-uncomfortable position half-through the hatch, Dean took a shy step forward and said somewhat-reluctantly, “Hello?”

The thing didn’t answer so Dean braved a bigger step. He nudged the thing’s arm with the toe of his sneaker but it didn’t move.

Dean swallowed and looked around, half-hoping the cops would show so he didn’t have to deal with this anymore. The other half of him prayed no one would come just in case he was having a break with reality.

He didn’t know what to do. The thing looked hurt, but how could he help? Should he help?

It grumbled something and its fingers flexed. Dean jumped back a full foot in surprise. He slipped on the metal, damp from the fire extinguisher, and fell onto his backside. The thing lifted its head.

Starlight licked a very human-looking face. The thing had a flat forehead, a straight nose, and full lips. Its cheekbones were high and pronounced. Its eyes were wide and so sparkling pale blue that Dean very nearly blushed because _holy shit_. It had short, messy, dark hair that seemed clumped in a few places. Its bare shoulders and arms were bony but toned, and Dean had to stop looking because he was staring.

This couldn’t be real life.

The thing pulled itself up from the hatch but failed halfway. A choked-off groan escaped it. Wetness started to line those blue eyes, adding more shine, and something uncomfortable shifted inside Dean’s gut.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Dean said, inching closer. He pushed himself up onto his knees.

The thing bit its lip as a tear slipped out over its cheek. It said something, but it was a garbled mess of vowels that Dean didn’t understand.

“It’s okay,” Dean said in as soothing a voice as he could manage with his heart thundering in his chest. “You’re okay.” He reached his hands out toward the thing. “I’m going to help you.”

It stared at Dean’s hands but didn’t move when Dean touched its arm and felt the warm hairless skin there.

“Help?” the creature said.

“Yes.” Dean slid his hands down the thing’s arms and took grip under its elbows. He began to pull.

The thing flailed a little before gripping at Dean’s bare shoulders.

“I got you,” Dean said to calm it, but the thing’s gaze darted wildly about itself, even after its legs had cleared the opening and it stood on its own two feet.

Dean glanced down a bare rippled chest to very human male genitalia and then, blushing furiously, lifted his gaze back to the thing’s eyes and kept it there. He _wasn’t_ going to think about how damn hot this thing was, although he guessed he could call it a “he” now and maybe not a thing so much as a person - a person whose skin shimmered green where Dean was still gripping his elbows. Dean’s palms tingled and he yanked his hands away.

“Holy shit,” he said for what must have been the millionth time.

The thing tilted its head ever so slightly to one side. “Castiel,” he said.

“What?”

He pointed at himself. “Not shit. Not what. _Castiel_.”

Oh. “That’s your name, huh?” Dean said. He laughed, slightly hysterical because there was no way this was actually happening.

Castiel pointed a finger at Dean. “Holy shit?”

“No, no,” Dean said quickly. He patted himself on the chest. “Dean.”

“Dean,” Castiel said, and Dean ignored how awesome his name sounded, uttered in that deep gravel.

“Castiel,” Dean said.

Castiel smiled then - a small little thing that lifted only one corner of his mouth - and maybe Dean smiled too. The moment passed when Castiel hunched over and clutched at his stomach. A green light flickered across his skin. A pained groan escaped him.

Dean grabbed his shoulder. “Hey, you okay?”

“Not safe,” Castiel ground out. “Dean, leave. Leave me.”

Dean touched both shoulders now and pushed on Castiel until he looked up at him. “Yeah, _no_ ,” Dean said. “You need help. Let me help.”

Castiel shook his head. “Leave me. They’ll come. They’ll hurt. They hurt me.”

A protective flare fired inside of Dean and even though it was uncalled for, he couldn’t push it away. Castiel hadn’t hurt him. He hadn’t done anything but look hurt and vulnerable and sad.

Dean pulled one of Castiel’s arms over his shoulder and started hauling him out of the crater.

“Dean,” Castiel started but Dean cut him off.

“Can it, Cas. You need help. You’re getting help.”

Castiel wheezed in painful breaths. “Dean... helping me... Dangerous.”

“You gonna kill me or something?”

“No!” Castiel shouted with urgency. He probably would have stopped walking if Dean didn’t continue to pull him along. “Others,” Castiel said. His feet shuffled more than walked and he slumped heavier on Dean’s shoulder. He whispered, “Leave me,” before he passed out.

“Not gonna happen,” Dean grumbled and dragged Cas the rest of the way to the house.

He pulled Castiel in through the front door and considered all alternatives for about two minutes before depositing him on the recliner. It felt a little weird, seeing the thing in use again, but Dean supposed after three years of it sitting there empty, someone should use it.

Dean gave Castiel a quick once over looking for any obvious wounds. The guy looked so human Dean wondered if he had imagined everything and maybe that was just a car out there in Dean’s father’s field. But then a hint of pale green light shimmered across his skin and the truth couldn’t really be denied.

Satisfied that Castiel didn’t have any gushing lacerations or anything really beyond a few bruises, Dean retreated into his bedroom to find Castiel some pants and a t-shirt. He grabbed a henley for himself.

A size or two too big, the jeans hung low on Castiel’s narrow hips but they covered up all of his personal parts - _thank God_. Dean could at least breathe again, even if his brain was reeling at about a hundred miles an hour.

Aliens. _No way_.

After tucking the plain gray t-shirt over Castiel’s head, Dean sat back on his heels. Castiel’s breathing was shallow but steady. Without any obvious wounds to tend, Dean didn’t know what else to do for the guy but find a blanket to drape over him.

Outside, Dean stood on the porch and lit another cigarette. The smoke burned his lungs and his throat. He hated cigarettes, hated the taste and the smell, but some days he wanted to burn a little. Today, it was just a good distraction.

The glass shards still sparkled on the pavement. If Dean ignored the hint of gunpowder in the air, he could pretend there wasn’t an alien passed out on his recliner or a crashed spaceship in the backyard.

When Dean was a kid, he drew pictures of faraway planets and creatures with lots of octopus arms and smiles. Dean showed them to his dad with pride. He heard about other kids’ parents who hung pictures on the fridge. On Dean’s refrigerator, Dean’s dad hung one newspaper clipping - Dean’s mom’s obituary - and nothing else. Dean’s artwork ended up in the trash can.

“You’re wasting your time, Dean,” Dean’s dad had said when he crumpled the pictures into tight balls and tossed them. “You’re wasting your _life_. Stop this useless dreaming.”

Dean wondered what his dad would say now. He’d probably think Dean lost his mind. Maybe he did.

Dean pressed his used cigarette into one of the empty beer bottles that littered the porch and made his way around the house again. The crater was simmering now more than smoking so Dean could see into the bottom with only a thin veil of gray cover. The front of Castiel’s round spacecraft was crumpled like a tin can or a fender bender. Dirt had kicked up into the ripples in the metal, completely burying the ship in parts. The hatch still hung pen. Dean stuck his head in but could barely see with the blinding blue and red lights. What he did see were painted symbols he didn’t understand and images so bright they hurt his eyes. He grabbed the cover to the hatch and reaffixed it over the hole. It didn’t seal but it kept the light from escaping. Then Dean climbed out of the crater.

He didn’t have any neighbors - the closest was over a mile away - but Dean knew someone would eventually come out to investigate. He had a choice: hand everything over to unknown authorities who would poke and prod Castiel and might hurt him, or hide it all and figure this out for himself.

Sam had always complained about Dean’s protective streak, which was way worse when Sam was a kid. Dean hated bullies, especially the kind that pick on his little brother. But that was Sam, Dean’s flesh and blood, and this was _Castiel_ , an _alien_ who Dean had known for all of ten minutes. There was no logical reason for Dean to go to the shed and find a shovel, and to spend the rest of the night covering up Castiel’s spaceship with a heap of dirt so no one who didn’t know it was there would find it without digging for hours. There was no logical reason for Dean to put the shovel away, then go back to the house, take a shower, and then plop down on the couch beside the recliner, side-eyeing Castiel for the few minutes that remained until dawn.

But that was exactly what he did.

The infomercials clicked over to pre-morning-news news and the glow of the news room illuminated the bridge of Castiel’s nose and the curve of his lips. His breathing was deeper than before, and Dean felt relieved. Though he didn’t want to think too hard about why.

Dean closed his eyes for only a moment, listening to the gentle buzz of the television. When he opened them again, the room was brighter, a daytime soap opera played on tv, and Castiel was gone. The only sign that he’d been there at all was the blanket still draped across the seat of the recliner.

With a headache coming on, Dean covered his eyes with his forearm and groaned.

Maybe he had imagined the whole thing. Maybe Castiel wasn’t real. Maybe Dean hallucinated.

He needed a drink. Glad it was Saturday and he didn’t have to work, Dean rolled off the couch and pushed himself up onto his feet. He’d have to go out to buy more whiskey, so he turned his feet toward the direction of the bathroom and stopped only when he stood outside a closed door.

Huh. He didn’t remember closing the bathroom door behind him last night.

A loud thud from within stopped Dean’s hand as he reached for the handle. He pressed his ear to the door instead and heard a few softer clatters. Pushing away from the door, Dean ran to his bedroom and retrieved a wooden baseball bat from his closet. If Castiel wasn’t real - if someone was messing with Dean - well, Dean planned on practicing his swing.

He held the bat at the ready as he reached for the handle to the door. He turned the knob then kicked the door open. Both hands wrapped around the neck of the bat, he raised it, stepped into the dark bathroom, and saw Castiel curled up in the corner shielding his eyes with his fingers.

“C-Cas?” Dean said. The bat slipped in his hands so he lowered it before he could drop it.

The green shimmer flashed across Castiel’s skin, brighter and faster than Dean remembered it from the night before. “Dean.”

Dean leaned the bat against the wall and approached Castiel with both hands raised, palms out in what he hoped was a non-threatening gesture. “You okay?”

“It hurts,” Castiel said in a pained whine.

“What hurts?” Dean asked, stepping closer. “Cas?”

“So bright. Too bright.”

“Okay, hold on,” Dean said and went back to his room. He returned a minute later with a pair of sunglasses. He kneeled down beside Cas and said, “Move your hands, buddy. Close your eyes and move your hands.”

“Dean.”

“I’m going to help,” Dean said. “I promise.”

“I... yes,” Castiel said. He slowly moved his hands away, revealing his eyelids, scrunched closed. “Bright.”

“I hear you.” Careful to avoid touching Castiel’s skin, Dean placed the sunglasses on the bridge of Castiel’s nose and hooked the earpieces behind Castiel’s ears. An older style of shades, the sunglasses had thick frames and wide lenses, but those lenses were darker than most modern pairs, which Dean figured would help Castiel now. “There.”

Castiel’s shoulders sagged and he huffed a quick breath in what sounded like relief.

“Better?” Dean asked.

“Yes,” Castiel replied. A ghost of a smile curved his lips.

Dean sat down across the room from him. He tried not to think about how surreal this all felt, like he was in a dream even though he knew he was awake. “How’s the sunshine bother you anyway? I looked into your ship, man. It’s bright as all hell in there.” He couldn’t see Cas’ eyes but it sure seemed like the alien was staring. Dean rubbed the back of his neck with his palm, suddenly uncomfortable under the possible scrutiny. “I mean, you know...”

“Human eyes are sensitive,” Castiel said.

“What?”

“My eyes - my true eyes - aren’t as strong.”

Right. _Alien_. “Yeah, okay,” Dean said. “So are you like a body snatcher or what?”

Castiel tilted his head marginally. “I do not understand.”

“Where’d you get the human body, Cas?”

“Oh.” Castiel bit his lip. “I made it.”

“Uh, huh,” Dean said. He really needed a drink now. “So you’re a shape-shifter or something.”

“I can alter my form, yes,” Castiel said.

“I see.” Dean rose to his feet and headed for his bedroom. He grabbed a pair of jeans and was halfway through sliding his sweatpants off when he glanced up and saw Castiel standing in the doorway. With a sharp cry of “Jesus!” because he hadn’t even heard the guy move, Dean jumped half-dressed into the closet. Then he cursed at himself because Castiel was probably a hallucination and Dean was hiding from it in the closet like some kind of virtue-protecting schoolgirl. That realization didn’t alter his actions though, and he stayed in the closet until he was fully dressed. When he stepped back out, Cas was standing where he had been, giving that same head tilt as before.

“Dean, we must talk.”

“You speak English pretty well,” Dean said as he grabbed his wallet and keys off his dresser.

Castiel shifted on his feet. “Yes. We’ve been studying your species for several years.”

“Uh, huh.”

“Observation only, I assure you.”

“Uh, huh.” Dean pulled a flannel overshirt from one of the drawers.

“Dean.”

“Yeah?”

“You are handling this quite well,” Castiel said.

“I’ll be handling it a lot better once I get back from the liquor store.” Dean walked toward the door frame and waited for Castiel to move out of the way. He didn’t. “Dude,” Dean said. For the first time, he looked at Castiel - _really_ looked. This close, in mid-day light, he couldn’t really ignore him.

The sunglasses were too big for Castiel’s face, hiding his eyebrows and cheekbones, but a five o’clock shadow dusted a jawline that could have been chiseled from granite. Dean had to look away from it to preserve his own sanity, so his gaze trailed up the length of Castiel’s sharp nose and smooth forehead to the wild dark hair atop his head. The hair color was a dark brown, but a few single black hairs were scattered throughout and stood a little sharper and longer than the rest.

“Dean, it is imperative that we speak,” Castiel told him.

Dean shook his head a little, pulling his gaze away from the guy’s ridiculously tempting bed head - Dean really wanted to run his fingers through it. “When I get back from the liquor store, we’ll talk all you want.” He had no intention of being sober for that conversation, assuming of course that Castiel was even still here when he got back. Dean didn’t know if he wanted Castiel gone or not.

_As fucked up as ever_ , Dean chided himself.

“Dean, please,” Castiel said with a bit of urgency.

“Get out of the way, Cas,” Dean said.

Castiel opened his mouth but after a moment under Dean’s hard stare, he took a step back from the doorway. Dean stepped around him and into the living room.

“You’re in danger!” Castiel called after him. “Please, listen to me.” Dean didn’t want to, but Castiel reached for his arm. Warm fingers clamped around his forearm. When the green shimmer passed where their skin touched, Dean felt a small spark like static.

“In helping me, you’ve put yourself at great risk,” Castiel said. “Others will come looking for me.”

“I hid your ship if that’s what you’re worried about,” Dean said. “It’s just buried out back.”

“I... Yes, that helps. Thank you.” Castiel’s voice stayed tight. “But they don’t need to see the ship to know it’s there Dean. They’ll come looking for me and they’ll find you.”

Dean stared longingly at the front door. “Doesn’t matter really. They won’t find anyone but a good-for-nothing drunk.”

“What?” Castiel sounded startled.

“Let go of my arm, Cas.”

“No.”

“Cas -”

“You deserve more than what they’d do, Dean.”

Suddenly angry, Dean swiveled on his heel to face Cas who backed up a step in reflex. Dean ripped his arm away from the alien’s grasp. “You don’t even know me, Cas. You don’t know me and you aren’t going to stay long enough to get to know me.” _Everyone leaves. Even my own goddamn hallucination is going to walk out on me._

Castiel’s gaping mouth slammed shut and he reached forward, grabbing at Dean’s shoulders. “You saved my life. You took me into your home. You did not have to do these things.”

“So, what?” Dean shrugged in attempts to unhinge Castiel but the alien’s grip was sure.

“You’re a good person -”

“Cas -”

“And I’m going to protect you.”

Dean shook his head, desperate to keep the words from sinking in too far. No one protected him; he was the protector. “I don’t need to be protected,” Dean said, not because it was true but because it was what _had_ to be true. Dean could only rely on Dean. “Give me a break.”

Castiel opened his mouth again, presumably to argue, but a knock on the front door interrupted him. His green light shimmered twice in quick succession. He moved as if to answer it so Dean brushed his hand over Castiel’s arm to stop him. He pulled away again before the static could zap him.

“Dean.”

“I got this, Cas,” Dean told him.

The front door was solid wood but through the peephole, Dean could see the sheriff standing there. Dean waved his arm at Castiel in what he hoped was the universal gesture of _fucking hide_. Castiel squinted in confusion and Dean rolled his eyes.

He opened the door a few inches, enough for his face to stick through.

Benny Lafitte, the town sheriff, didn’t bother looking away from the collection of beer bottles strewn across Dean’s front porch even after Dean addressed him, “Hey, Benny. Haven’t seen you around.” It wasn’t bullshit. Dean hadn’t seen Benny much since the sheriff sobered up a year ago. Before that, they had done the nightly bar crawl together. “Guess that’s a good thing.”

Dean’s attempts at small talk proved futile.

“Many of your neighbors complained of a storm last night, brother,” Benny said. He side-eyed Dean. “Did you hear anything?”

Dean wasn’t offended by the change of subject. Benny and Dean had more in common than they’d ever talk about, and that was just it. They couldn’t talk - not with Benny sober and Dean still drinking. He made a quick decision to play on Benny’s perceived notions about him.

“Nah, man,” Dean said. “You know me. A tornado could have gone by and I’d wake up with my house gone, wondering what happened.”

Benny looked back to the beer bottles. “So you didn’t hear anything.”

“No,” Dean said. “Must have been one of those freak storms that start out of nowhere and are gone before you know it.”

“That right?”

“Could have been,” Dean said.

Benny rubbed his jaw and suddenly Dean knew this wasn’t going to be easy. “Dean -”

“Benny, come on,” Dean said. “Why are you really out here? Crime so low in town that you have to come the whole way out here to hassle me?”

“No reason to worry, eh?” Benny said, waving his hand toward the porch.

“So you suddenly give a shit?” Dean and Benny grew up together - went to the same school, both played on the baseball team. Benny knew everything there was to know about Dean and he still bailed for the past year. “After a year of not speaking to me.”

“You need to call your brother,” Benny said.

Dean scoffed, disgust and a twinge of betrayal twisting in his gut. He gripped the door frame for support and the front door opened a little more. “Sam called you.”

“A last resort, I’m sure.”

“Fuck you, Benny,” Dean said. He didn’t need a goddamn babysitter. “Get the hell out of here.”

“So you didn’t hear anything last night.”

“I already told you I hadn’t.”

“Yeah but you were lying,” Benny said. Before Dean could make a snide remark, he added, “Hang out with a guy long enough, you learn his tells.”

“I’m not -”

“Dean,” Castiel said loudly from behind him.

Dean turned his head to cast an incredulous look but Castiel was too busy staring daggers at the door to notice.

“Who’s that?” Benny asked.

Dean’s stare widened as he looked back to Benny. “You heard that?”

Benny’s gaze shifted over Dean’s shoulder to where Castiel had apparently decided to make himself comfortable in Dean’s personal space.

“I think you should leave,” Castiel told Benny and there was a growl to his voice that hadn’t been there when he talk to Dean, even when they argued. “You are upsetting Dean.”

Benny’s brows lifted then, as his gaze not-so-subtly shifted from Castiel’s face to the t-shirt he wore which was clearly Dean’s and way too big for him.

Dean blinked once, twice. He glanced between Castiel and Benny. Benny was _looking_ at Castiel. Benny could _see_ Castiel.

Castiel was _real_.

“Holy shit.”


	2. My Heart Doesn't Sing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel shows Dean his true form.

Benny lifted a brow in Dean’s direction, obviously waiting for some elaboration to his little outburst, but Dean wasn’t about to explain. _Oh, yeah, Benny, sure. This is Castiel, who you can apparently_ see, _which means he’s_ real - _oh, and he’s an_ alien. Somehow, he doubted that would go well.

Probably realizing he wasn’t going to get anything out of Dean, Benny turned suspicious eyes on Castiel, who stood ramrod straight and stared right back, blue eyes barely visible through the dark shades.

“Who did you say you were again?” Benny asked, no doubt knowing Castiel had never given his name. Dean was still too stunned to react properly. He wondered if he should just tell Benny the truth about Castiel so that he’d have to deal with it and Dean could just go back to his normal everyday bottom-of-the-bottle life.

“I do not feel comfortable telling you,” Castiel said. 

Benny chuckled, a false, dangerous sound, and turned his gaze back on Dean. “Can I speak with you on the porch, Dean?” He looked pointedly at Castiel. “Alone.”

“Uh,” Dean said then swallowed. _Pull it together, Winchester._ “Sure.” He was about to take a step when a hand on his shoulder stopped him.

“Dean,” Castiel said with an edge of worry in his voice. 

“Just stay here, Cas,” Dean said, and no - he was _not_ affected in anyway whatsoever by Castiel’s concern. Dean’s heart always felt warm like that.

In a quiet voice, Castiel said, “I swore to protect you.”

“Benny just wants to talk. It’s okay.”

“I’m not going to hurt him, friend,” Benny pitched in, and Dean’s face heated. He hoped Benny hadn’t heard too much of that.

Castiel’s fingers tightened on Dean’s shoulder - a strong grip. At Benny, he all but growled, “I am _not_ you friend.”

Dean was going to ignore the way that deep, demanding voice sent a shiver right up his spine because - _alien_. Plus, he was done feeling like a damsel in distress. Dean Winchester dealt with his own bullshit. He shrugged off Castiel’s hand and grumbled over his shoulder, “Just stay here.”

Castiel frowned but didn’t budge as Dean stepped further onto the porch with Benny, who was ignoring Castiel or just didn’t care.

Benny kicked over one of the beer bottles. It fell off the porch and into the bushes.

Dean could only imagine what Benny was thinking - that Dean had really gone off the deep end this time, that Castiel was just as nuts, that maybe Dean picked him up or something.

“Is he why you lied about what you saw last night?” Benny asked.

It wasn’t a lie to say, “Yeah.”

“Look, this ain’t any of my business and I don’t really want to know,” Benny said. He scratched at the scruff on his jaw. “But if you’re in some kind of trouble or something...”

“I’m not,” Dean said quickly.

“You sure about that?” Benny motioned with one hand toward the front door where Cas was leaning out to watch them stand at the edge of the porch. Dean was going to have to talk to him about all the staring.

Dean knew then that he could pawn Castiel off on Benny, giving the ‘He just showed up here and he’s crazy’ excuse or maybe no excuse at all, and Benny would probably haul him away and give him a stern talking-to at the station or just lock him up, but somehow he couldn’t do that to Castiel. The guy - the _alien_ \- was strange, but...

_I’m going to protect you._

Dean kind of liked him.

“He’s a little weird, but he’s alright,” Dean said.

“Yeah?”

Dean nodded.

Benny stared at Dean, then at Castiel, and back again. “You sure?”

“I won’t hurt Dean,” Castiel said from the doorway and Dean resisted the urge to bury his face in his palms.

“You really got to let go of this protective streak, Cas,” Dean grumbled.

Castiel’s words, however, seemed to be what Benny was looking for because he put his hands in his pockets, said, “Just call Sam already,” and started for the porch steps. When he reached the driver’s side door of his cruiser, he looked back to the porch. Dean waved a little bit, the perfect picture of domestic normalcy, but really he just wanted Benny to leave so he could have a breakdown. 

After Benny safely pulled away from the house, Dean walked right through the front door, yanked Castiel further into the house, and slammed closed the door behind them.

Castiel huffed out a breath that sounded like relief and his green shimmer returned, flashing quickly over his skin. Some tension seeped out of his shoulders. He must have noticed Dean’s gaping because he said, “Retaining this form without pulses of restoration is difficult.” When Dean continued gaping, he added, “Dean?”

“You could almost be human,” Dean said. Green flashed across Castiel’s skin. “Except for that.”

“I’m not human.” He bit his lip, which Dean tried really hard not to stare at, and looked down at the ground. Castiel’s lips were plump and pink, reddening a bit where he had bit at his bottom lip. “I’m sorry.”

Thoughts of a breakdown temporarily averted, Dean asked, "Why?"

“If I was human, I would not distress you so.”

If Castiel was human, Dean would have hit on him twelve times already.

He swallowed. “You can’t like, read my mind or anything, right?”

“Oh. Oh, no,” Castiel said. “Not unless... In this state, I couldn’t... That is to say...” His cheeks flushed pink. The guy was _blushing_.

“Out with it, Cas,” Dean said, half because he wanted to know, and half because blushing Castiel was the most - _no_ , he wasn’t going to say adorable - thing he’d ever seen. He covered, “I need to know if I've got to protect myself here.”

“Oh, no! You don’t have to worry - not that you aren’t... not that I’m not... I would never force...” Castiel took a frustrated, unsteady breath, and the blush deepened. “I’m not even sure it would work with a human.”

“Spell it out for the simple human, please.”

“Yes, I apologize.” He inhaled and exhaled deeply before starting again. “In my true form, I... Well, I have never, but...”

“Castiel.”

“When my kind entwine their bodies -”

_Entwine their bodies?!_

“Holy shit, you’re talking about sex,” Dean said because his brain never really developed a filter.

Even Castiel’s neck turned red. Dean offhandedly wondered how far down that blush went, but then he pushed that thought away and cursed it.

“It is a mating ritual, yes,” Castiel said.

Dean was curious - he didn’t want to admit to how much - but what held his curiosity of the ritual itself at bay was the word Castiel had used: entwined. All he could envision was anime tentacle porn. “Dude, you don’t have like...” He flexed his arms trying to mimic an octopus.

Castiel’s brow scrunched. “Have what?”

“Like...” Dean continued his gestures with more animation, flailing his limbs now.

Castiel tilted his head. “What?”

Dean dropped his arms to his sides and huffed, “Don’t make me say it!”

“I don’t know what you’re -”

“Tentacles!” Dean shouted in exasperation. 

“Oh,” Castiel said and Dean was mostly sure now that this _true form_ was a combination of every tentacle porn monster Dean had ever seen. Frankly though, he couldn’t tell if the thought freaked him out or did the opposite. He really needed to lay off the porn.

“No, I don’t have tentacles,” Castiel said. “I look more like...” He paused. “I suppose I could just show you.”

Hot damn, did Dean want to see what Castiel really looked like - but not here, not _now_ , in broad daylight with all the blinds open. He didn’t care if he didn’t have close neighbors. He hadn’t heard Benny pop by until he was already at the door. Dean wasn’t going to risk Castiel being seen in his true form. The flicker wasn’t really noticeable enough for Dean to worry. Castiel still looked human. But in some weird octopus form? Dean wasn’t going to risk someone seeing, someone _taking_ Castiel _away_. 

Dean held his hands out, stopping Castiel, whose green flicker was picking up speed. “Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Dean said. “Not here, buddy.”

Castiel frowned. “You don’t want to see me?” he asked and Dean didn’t think he imagined the hurt in the alien’s human voice.

“What? No,” Dean said and watched as Castiel’s shoulders slumped. “Wait, that’s not what I meant. I want to, okay? I do. Just not right now. Not right here.” Dean didn’t want to share. He also didn’t want to think about _why_ he didn’t want to share.

His gaze shifted toward the bathroom. “How big is your true form?” Dean asked.

“I can condense and expand myself,” Castiel said.

“Okay,” Dean said and started for the bathroom door. Over his shoulder, he said, “Come on, Cas.”

“Dean?”

“Just humor me, alright?” Dean said. “There’s no reason to flash the whole neighborhood.”

Castiel’s lips pressed together in a firm line but he followed obediently. Dean closed the door behind them. He didn’t know whether or not to turn the lights on, knowing how they hurt Castiel’s eyes earlier, so he left them off. 

Castiel stood close - _really_ close, less than an arm’s length away. Dean couldn’t back up without walking through the door. Last time he checked, humans didn’t have that skill.

Dean swallowed, glad now that the lights weren’t on. “Personal space, Cas?”

“Hm?”

Before Dean’s brain could start making fantasies of pulling Cas closer, Dean put a hand on each of Castiel’s shoulders and pushed him back a step. Castiel’s skin flickered, illuminating the dark room in a green glow before dissipating in a flash, like a lightning strike in the middle of the night. The light softened when it disappeared under Cas’ clothes. Then it vanished altogether, and they stood in darkness again.

Carefully, as Dean’s eyes adjusted to the dark, he reached a hand up on either side of Castiel’s face and touched the plastic frame of Castiel’s sunglasses. Moving slow so that his fingers wouldn’t slip, Dean plucked the sunglasses away from behind Castiel’s ears and off his nose, and placed them down on the edge of the sink.

Castiel’s eyes glowed light blue in the darkness, not enough to light the space but just enough for Dean to see that Castiel was staring at him, wide-eyed and somehow innocent.

“You want to see?” Castiel asked.

Dean’s throat felt dry as he whispered, “Yes.”

Castiel backed up another step until his heels clonked against the bathtub. “Be careful not to touch,” he said. 

Dean wasn’t sure how this was going to work. Maybe Castiel’s skin would flake away or break into sections or something equally gross, but that wasn’t what happened. One minute, Castiel was human, skin flickering green. The next, Castiel wasn’t human at all, but instead, a goopey-looking cloud. He was a two-foot-tall pulsing blue light floating under the showerhead and above the pool of his now-unused clothes in the bathtub.

“Cas?” Dean asked and the light grew so bright that Dean had to cover his eyes with his hand. “Okay, get it, it’s you!” The light dimmed again and Dean peeked through his fingers. Castiel had condensed as he said he could into a tight opaque ball so small it could probably fit in a peanut butter jar. Seeing Castiel so small and dim made him feel a bit like a jerk. “Hey, I didn’t mean to yell. It’s okay. You’re okay.”

The blue light amplified and dimmed in a steady rhythm like a heartbeat. Slowly, Castiel’s form widened to its original semi-transparent two foot form.

As Dean’s eyes adjusted, he began to notice subtle differences in Castiel’s cloud-shape. A few black dots hung among the mass; Dean counted half a dozen from what he could see. The bulk of Castiel’s form wasn’t just a simple bright blue but shades of it, a gradient that grew darker and deeper in hue toward the center.

Castiel didn’t have tentacles or weird growths. He didn’t look like a monster from any porno that Dean had ever seen. If anything, he looked like the inside of a Twinkie dyed blue.

All this seemed like some kind of dream. Benny had seen and talked to Castiel. He had to be real. This had to be real. But things like this didn’t happen to Dean. No one wanted to take care of him. No one wanted to _protect_ him - especially not attractive aliens with ridiculous glow-in-the-dark eyes and a marshmallow center.

Yet before he really knew what he was doing, Dean was reaching a hand out toward the wisp. Castiel scrunched into a tight ball and danced around Dean’s hand and wrist, circling close but never touching. The air around his skin felt warm, even after Castiel bounced away back against the shower tiles. He expanded until he filled the shower, and after a flash of blinding light, Castiel was back in human form.

A moment passed before Dean’s eyes readjusted to the darkness, but when they did, he could see Castiel’s shy smile.

“Was that okay?” Castiel asked.

“Yeah,” Dean said. 

Castiel’s skin flickered green and Dean’s gaze followed the trail of light and - _Oh, my God, he’s naked_. Castiel had a runner’s body: flat stomach, toned arms and legs. His hips were narrow but defined, and Dean could not stop staring at those jutting hip bones that seemed to catch the light no matter what part of Cas was glowing.

Dean wasn’t going to look at the guy’s junk - _he wasn’t_ \- but he was already looking at his hips and it was _right there_ and – 

_Hot damn._

Dean averted his gaze immediately, eyes darting around the small room, trying to find something to look at that wasn’t – 

Dean wasn’t thinking about how well-endowed Castiel was. Neither washe thinking about the way Castiel’s dick twitched a little when Dean looked at it. _Nope, nope, nope._

“Dean, are you ill?” Castiel asked, and he sounded so genuinely concerned that Dean felt like an even bigger pervert.

With eyes locked on the ceiling, Dean said, “Dude, will you _please_ just put on your pants?”

“Oh,” Castiel said, like he hadn’t thought to do that. Dean continued to count the ceiling tiles as clothes shuffled, and when Castiel finally said, “Okay,” and Dean dared looking back, he nearly had a heart attack right then and there.

Castiel’s t-shirt was on backwards and inside out, the tag jutting out at the collar. He had tried to tuck the shirt in, however unsuccessfully, as the bottom was stuck under the waistband of his jeans on one side and flopped over on the other. The jeans, though covering most everything, were still unzipped and unbuttoned, and Dean could see shadow where he knew inches of skin sat on display.

Dean pointed at the unfastened front of Castiel’s pants and Castiel looked down at himself and then up with a frown. 

“This isn’t right?” he asked.

Dean couldn’t say it - couldn’t even think of what to say - so he just shook his head.

Castiel tried tucking in the untucked side but he only succeeded in pulling the jeans further from his body. His skin flashed green and Dean’s eyes fell back onto that hipbone before he could even think to look away.

“You’re killing me here,” Dean grumbled.

Castiel’s skin flickered twice in quick succession, bright enough for Dean to see the pale look of mortification on his face. “I’m sorry!”

Dean rolled his eyes, though they quickly returned to where Cas was holding the waistband of his jeans away from his hip. Then up to his face. _Stay on the face. What are you, a horny teenager? Control yourself._

“It’s just an expression, Cas,” Dean said. “It doesn’t really mean anything.”

“Oh,” Castiel said and his attention returned to tucking in his shirt. 

Dean figured he’d better act before Castiel really did give him some kind of medical condition (he already had a boner), so without looking more than to align his hands to the button and zipper, Dean fixed Castiel’s pants for him. As soon as that zipper was secure, Dean all but pounced back to the other side of the room. He reached for the bathroom door handle and started to open the door when Castiel winced and covered his eyes.

Oh, right.

Dean grabbed the sunglasses off the sink and moved to hand them to Castiel, but Castiel didn’t reach for them. Instead, he took a step closer and waited. Dean held the glasses out a little further. Castiel still waited. “Seriously?”

Castiel blinked once, twice - glowing blue eyes impossibly innocent.

Dean sighed loudly so that his annoyance would be noted (even if it was faked) and then he unfolded the legs of the sunglasses and plopped them unceremoniously around Castiel’s ears. By accident, Dean’s fingers brushed against Castiel’s temple just as the green light flickered by and tickled his fingertips. It didn’t really hurt like static; it was softer than that. Dean wondered if he would feel it if he kissed him.

“You good?” Dean didn’t wait for a reply before reaching for the door and wrenching it open. He hobbled into his kitchen while willing his erection away with the blunt side of his palm. He grabbed a glass and then turned on the cold water in the sink. He took a long drink before deciding that wasn’t enough and dipped his head toward the basin to splash water straight onto his face.

He was too hot. He needed to calm down. Castiel probably didn’t even know what a boner was, let alone why Dean had one, and Dean wasn’t going to have this conversation _with_ or _these thoughts_ about an _alien_. It didn’t matter how wide and blue those eyes were or how ridiculously hot his human body was or how Dean just wanted to touch his true form to see what he felt like - Dean was not going to have thoughts of lust _or_ affection about an alien. End of story.

“You appear to be sexually aroused,” Castiel said from over his shoulder.

Dean turned the dial further to get colder water, but he seriously doubted there was enough cold water in the world to calm him down from this.

“Are you attracted to this body?” Castiel asked.

Dean’s head snapped up so fast he hit it off the facet and then one of the cabinets. A string of curses fell from his lips before he managed, “What? No! What do you think I am? You’re...” _Hot. Insanely hot._ “A guest. You’re a guest. My guest, and I don’t...” _Throw my guests against the wall and grind on them until we both bliss out - well, unless they ask for that. Off topic, Winchester._ “Treat my guests with anything but respect.”

“You please me, as well,” Castiel said as smoothly as if he’d just commented on the weather.

Heat shot through every part of Dean’s body, even his fingertips and toes, which curled simultaneously. He knew he should be backing down from this like a gentleman - not that he’d been one so far - instead of asking more questions, but he was just so damned curious. “But I’m human.”

“Yes.”

“You’re not.”

“No.”

“And you still like this?” He motioned from his chest to his hips, watching as Castiel's head followed the movement.

“Your body is strong,” Castiel said. “As is your heart. You are brave, but lonely -”

“Jesus, Cas. Stop,” Dean snapped, libido suddenly halted. There was no way he was talking feelings with anyone, least of all an alien. He didn’t even talk feelings with Sam, his own flesh and blood.

“Your heart sings for mine as if we were the same.”

Anger swept away Dean’s lust and curiosity and before he could think of all the reasons why provoking an alien was a bad idea, Dean stabbed at Castiel’s chest with his finger, a push for each word. “You don’t know me.” He shoved at his shoulders next, and Castiel stumbled backwards into the closed door of the pantry. Dean crowded his space. “Don’t act like you know anything about me.” _Don’t act like I could ever mean anything to you. Don’t act like you are going to stay. Don’t make me care about you. Don’t make me like you. Don’t hurt me. Oh, God, please don’t hurt me._

“My heart doesn’t _sing_ for anyone or anything, got it?”

Castiel’s bottom lip trembled, and immediately in turn, so did Dean’s resolve. He wanted to apologize, but he couldn’t. If he let Castiel in, even for a moment, Castiel would break him. He may have made a promise to protect him, but Dean doubted the guy even knew what that meant. _No one protects Dean Winchester but Dean Winchester_.

“I’m not worth the effort, Cas,” Dean said. It wasn’t an apology, but it was the best he could do. He pushed out of Castiel’s space and back into the kitchen. Castiel stayed pinned to the wall. “Cas?” he asked, but Cas didn’t even glance in his direction. He seemed to be staring at the sink - no, at the window.

Two men in gray-rimmed sunglasses stood outside the window. They each held some black boxy thing Dean had never seen before, though he hadn’t needed to see it before to know it was some kind of gun. It had a handle and a barrel, and right then, both barrels pointed at Dean.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Hope you continue to enjoy this story! Next Wednesday's update may be delayed until Saturday because I am going out of town and am unsure about the wifi situation at the hotel. Thank you for your understanding and continued support! :3


	3. Protect and Serve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maybe Dean was in distress – after all, he had no idea what those weapons in these strangers’ hands did. But these people were on his property, threatening him – now threatening Cas - and that was more than enough to get Dean good and angry.

Dean barely had time to register that he was in danger before Castiel barreled into his personal space, planting himself, with arms outstretched, firmly between Dean and the two strangers at the window.

“You will not hurt Dean,” Castiel said with the same deep and dangerous voice he had used against Benny.

Torn between freaked out, turned on, and hella pissed off, Dean growled, “What the shit, Cas?” Even though he was getting tired of being confused with a wilting damsel in distress, Dean wasn’t mad at Castiel. Hell, maybe Dean _was_ in distress – after all, he had no idea what those weapons in those strangers’ hands did. But these people were on his property, threatening him – now threatening _Cas_ \- and that was more than enough to get Dean good and pissed.

“Stay quiet, Dean,” Castiel whispered. “I may be able to reason with them.”

Dean seriously doubted that. The strangers kept their weapons where they were even after Castiel moved into the crosshairs. Plus, “Aren’t these the guys that shot you down?”

Castiel didn’t answer verbally but his skin flickered green twice in quick succession.

“Right,” Dean said and grabbed Castiel’s hand. Yanking the alien along with him, Dean rushed out into the living room. Behind them, the glass of the window shattered. A pulse of energy and light charred the linoleum where they had been standing. The shot was coupled with a high-pitched ping that made Dean wince and cover one ear with his free hand. Over his shoulder, Castiel did the same.

Dean ripped open the front door and burst through, out onto his porch and then down to the driveway where his classic black Impala was parked. His fingers touched the handle of the driver’s side door as another ping sounded from the porch.

“Back!” Castiel shouted. He grabbed Dean around the waist and hauled him away from his car just as the pulse of light hit the engine. Smoke and flame burst out from under the hood. Castiel let go of Dean’s waist only after they were away a few feet.

“My baby!” Dean cried, mortified and frozen as he watched flames encase his beloved car.

“Dean!” Castiel called. “Move!”

The two unknowns stood on the porch with their weapons outstretched, trailing sights from the car to where Dean and Castiel stood.

“Please, Dean!” Castiel said. He shook Dean’s shoulder and then grabbed his hand.

Somewhere in the back of Dean’s mind, he knew that he had to move further from the car. When the flames got to the gas tank, that would be it. It was going to explode. But he couldn’t think about that right now, watching his baby – his most prized possession, the only thing that ever really belonged to _him_ \- go up in smoke.

“You sons of bitches,” Dean snarled as he started walking for the porch. He didn’t care if they were armed and he wasn’t, he was going to tear them limb from limb if he had to. Only Castiel’s surprisingly strong hold on his shoulder held him back. He’d probably bruise under the alien’s palm.

“Dean,” Castiel said, loud and firm, pulling Dean away from his revenge fantasy to ground him in the present. The Impala was going to explode. These assholes had guns, and they were pointed at Dean – no, they were pointed at Castiel. Dean wanted to scream and shout and cry and _punch_ , but more than any of that, Dean wanted to protect _Cas_.

Dean lunged, shoving Castiel out of the way just as the energy pulse shot out. They landed in the grass beside the driveway. The pavement sizzled where Castiel had been standing.

“Dean?” From under Dean, Castiel looked up with wide, frightened eyes. His green flicker seemed more of a shudder. Dean didn’t have time to question why that look steeled his resolve and made his heart beg _protect_.

“Run, damn it!” Dean shouted and pulled them both to their feet.

They ran, zigzagging across the grass and then pavement, barely dodging the energy pulses that burnt the dirt around them. A treeline walled the opposite side of the road and Dean, tugging Castiel along behind him, made his way for it as fast as he could.

An energy pulse flashed and the tree beside Dean’s head fizzled right as he passed into the woods.

Another light pulsed, coupled with the now-familiar and gut-churning ping, but this time there was no simmer in dirt or fizzle in wood. This time, Castiel cried out, sharp and pained, and fell onto his knees. Still holding his hand, Dean dragged Castiel behind the cover of the trees. The back of his t-shirt was burned through and the skin underneath was red and bloody.

“Cas?”

“D-Dean.” Castiel’s voice wavered between the deep gravel Dean was now accustomed to, to something fragile and light, like the ding of a bell. His skin flickered fiercely, and with each flash, Castiel winced. He curled in on himself.

“We have to keep running, Cas.”

“Can’t,” Castiel said. His body twitched. “Can’t hold it… Can’t hold this form.”

The burn on his back was spreading outward, coming down his arms from up under the short sleeves of the t-shirt. 

“Then change,” Dean said, panicked. He didn’t know what to do, how to stop this. He had to get Castiel out of here. “I’ll carry you.”

“You can’t… touch me,” Castiel said. “If you… I can’t…”

“Cas, there isn’t time,” Dean urged. Through the trees, Dean could see the two strangers walking down the driveway. “We have to go.”

“Leave me,” Castiel said.

“We covered this,” Dean said. “No.”

“Dean.”

Dean huffed, “Look, I’m not leaving here without you, got it? Change or don’t change, I don’t care. I’m carrying you.” He dropped Castiel’s hand and instead weaved his arms around Castiel’s body, one arm under his knees and the other around his back. The skin of Castiel’s back was red hot where they touched, but Dean kept holding. “We’re leaving.”

Something flickered behind Castiel’s blue eyes, brightening them for a second before dimming them back to their usual sparkle. “I am indebted to you… again.”

“Yeah, well, thank me if we live,” Dean grumbled and stood with Castiel snug in his arms. He started running again, keeping to the woods but running parallel with the road. Carrying Castiel, he was slower than before and it wasn’t long until the loud pings returned and Dean was back to dodging more weird energy pulses – well, he had no idea what they _really_ were, but he didn’t exactly have time to sit down and examine them. For now, energy pulses fit in his mind as good as anything else.

Castiel slipped in and out of consciousness – fingers loose on Dean’s henley when he was out and curled tight when he was awake.

“Stay with me, Cas. Come on.”

Dean’s chest was heaving. He really wished he was in better shape. If he lived through this, he vowed no more cigarettes. Only adrenaline, righteous anger over the death of his car and the destruction of his house, and the fierce desire to protect the alien in his arms fueled Dean’s fast pace. His arms hurt. His legs ached. But he wouldn’t stop running. Not until he was dead, or –

Dean ducked to dodge a whizzing energy pulse, when his foot caught a root and he stumbled. His knees hit the ground hard. Castiel tumbled from his arms and rolled along the forest floor before stopping at the base of a tree. 

Castiel’s eyes snapped open, then focused, and widened as he looked at something behind Dean. The burning trailed up his neck to his cheeks. Dean didn’t have to look to guess those assholes were right behind him. Then Castiel looked at Dean, frightened but determined, and in the next instant, Castiel blinked into his marshmallow cloud true form. He was dimmer than before, grayer than white, and his heartbeat pulse looked more like a wheeze now, a staggered beat.

Dean knew he wasn’t supposed to touch – that had been Castiel’s big rule last time – but that rule seemed null and void when Castiel flung straight into Dean’s open arms and seemed to collapse there. Dean struggled to collect all of Castiel’s true form. He was difficult to hold onto, light and airy, but Dean managed to scoop what he could and hold Castiel tightly against his chest.

“Hold on, buddy,” Dean said and barreled forward again. He dared a glance over his shoulder.

Both strangers were only a few trees behind him, but they had stopped, weapons still upright but unmoving. They glanced at each other then back at Dean, mouths slightly agape.

Dean wasn’t going to question their hesitation, not when he could get another head start, and hurried forward, turning his attention back to the path before him. It was only a moment or two before the energy pulses started again, the strangers apparently having gotten over whatever tripped them up.

When, through the treeline, Dean saw Benny’s police cruiser parked at the side of the road, he thought he might have a heartattack caused half from utter relief and half from fear it might be an illusion. “Benny!” he cried and jumped over a bush and out into the street. It was easier to run and maneuver with Castiel like this, light as a wisp against his chest. “Benny!”

The trunk of the cruiser hung open, and as Dean rounded the car, he saw a flat tire with bits of broken glass sticking out, the car jack, and Benny wearing his wide-brimmed sheriff hat and with his gray uniform sleeves rolled up, tightening the last bolt on a fresh tire. He looked up at Dean and then at Castiel and then, all too casually, blinked.

“Problem, brother?”

Dean didn’t even have time to get the words out before an energy pulse blasted over his head and he dove, face-first behind the car beside Benny.

“Problems, then,” Benny said and removed his gun. He peered over the trunk of his car. “Halt!” he called, somehow still managing to sound calm even with the tone raise. Dean blamed that smooth southern drawl. “Identity yourselves.”

The next energy blast took of the trunk door. It flung over Dean and Benny’s heads before landing scorched in the field behind them. 

Benny lifted one brow and glanced in Dean’s direction.

“Jesus, Benny,” Dean said. “They’re going to kill us.”

Benny looked over the trunk again. “I am Sheriff Lafitte. Cease and desist or I will return fire.”

The ping sounded once more, and Benny’s sheriff hat joined the burnt up trunk door in the field behind them. Finally, Benny started to look annoyed, brow pulling together and lowering. He frowned.

“Guess that settles it,” he said before turning on his knees and opening fire.

The loud pops of gunfire must have startled Castiel, who straight up quivered and the shrunk further against Dean. Dean tightened his hold against the alien’s true form, hoping to offer some measure of comfort. 

“It’s okay, Cas,” Dean whispered. “It’ll be okay.”

Benny had only a moment to cast Dean a narrow-eyed glance of confusion before returning his attention back to the strangers. “Something you’d like to explain, Dean?”

“Long story,” Dean said. “Cliff notes version?”

Benny nodded. An energy pulse shot over his head.

“Aliens.”

Benny stopped nodding. “You’re shitting me.”

“No,” Dean said.

Benny whistled, “Damn.”

“Yeah.”

“And Cas?” Benny asked.

Dean motioned with his chin and eyes down to the goop clinging to his chest.

“Huh,” Benny said and went back to shooting. After the second pop he stopped. “Got one.”

Dean crowded him to see over the trunk. The two unknowns had taken cover behind the trees. One was gripping at its leg. The other had turned ghostly pale.

“That tire ready?” Dean asked.

“I can’t just leave,” Benny said.

“Seriously?”

“I’m a cop, Dean,” Benny said. “We stay and fight.”

“Don’t you think _aliens_ are a little above your pay-grade?” Dean asked.

“Protect and serve.”

“Be hard to do if you’re dead,” Dean said.

“Dean –”

“There isn’t time for this,” Dean said, exasperated. He motioned to Castiel again, whose light was even dimmer than before. “They’re after Cas and he’s hurt. We have to bail.”

A muscle in Benny’s jaw ticked. “You sure they’re after that one?”

“They’re chasing _us_ ,” Dean said. “We have to bail, Benny. Please.”

Benny made a small humph. “Ain’t never heard you beg for anything before.”

They didn’t have time for this. “Cas needs – ”

“Alright, alright,” Benny said. “But you’re going to tell me what’s going on, on the road.”

They opened the car from the passenger side and crawled inside. Dean didn’t even have the door closed before Benny turned the ignition and floored it. The unwounded alien cried out from behind them. He took aim.

“Benny!” Dean shouted.

Benny swerved the car just as the energy pulse shot out. It scraped along the side of the car, charring along the flank. The paint flaked, but all parts remained attached. 

“Faster, Benny,” Dean said.

“I’m going,” Benny said and floored it. They were so far down the road when the unknown fired his next shot, it fizzled harmlessly against the back bumper without doing any obvious damage that they could see from the front. Benny kept up the high speed as he asked, “Where to? Hospital?”

“I don’t know if Cas can go there,” Dean said. In the relative safety of the car, Dean felt his adrenaline slip and fear and panic replace it. Castiel alone, he could maybe have handled, but being chased? And _baby_. “Jesus, Benny. They even shot up baby. What am I supposed to do?”

“Calm down, brother,” Benny said in his frustratingly relaxed voice. “I was asking if you needed to go there.”

“No,” Dean said quickly. “No. I’m fine. It’s Cas. He’s hurt. I don’t know what to do.”

“Dean, is he…” Benny glanced at Castiel. “Is that normal? For him to look like that?”

Dean didn’t dare look at Castiel for fear he wasn’t pulsing anymore. “What do you mean?” 

“He looks different than before,” Benny said with a shrug. “A little shorter, for one.”

“This is his true form,” Dean said. Castiel stretched against him, part of him tickling the skin at Dean’s neck, and Dean breathed out in relief. Still alive then. 

But his car. _Baby_. And his father’s house. Dean suddenly found it very difficult to breath.

“Keep breathing,” Benny said. “Losing it ain’t going to help creampuff, there.”

“Right, okay,” Dean said, trying to focus on Castiel. He could figure out how to repair the chopped up pieces of his already unimpressive life later. Right now, he had to fix Castiel.

Slowly, he unraveled his arms from his chest and Castiel came down with them, falling featherlike into Dean’s lap. His heartbeat pulse was dim and infrequent, and worry bubbled in Dean’s chest like acid reflux. For as sticky as Castiel appeared, winding around Dean’s fingers and clinging when he moved to pull away, Castiel felt cool to the touch, a bit water-like though he had more substance, so maybe like pudding instead.

“We need somewhere to lie low,” Dean said. “Out of town, far from everyone. Totally isolated.”

“I know a place,” Benny said. He glanced at Dean. “How do you know they’re aliens?”

“You mean, aside from this?” Dean asked, gesturing to the marshmallow Castiel in his hands. 

“Strange stuff on earth, too,” Benny said, strangely non-pulsed. “No need to go out of orbit for that.”

Dean sighed. “Cas’ spaceship is in my backyard. Crashed last night.”

“I knew it,” Benny said.

Dean looked at him. “What do you mean, you knew it?”

“I knew you were hiding something big,” Benny said. He reached for the radio. Dean hurried and knocked his hand away.

“Don’t,” Dean said.

“I have to call it in,” Benny said. “Shots fired? Strange, dangerous perps on the loose? This is my job.”

Dean’s fingers flexed around Castiel and Castiel clung back just as tightly. “They’ll take Cas.”

“Who?” Benny asked.

“FBI?” Dean said. “I don’t know. They can’t have him. Pull over.”

“Dean.”

“If you’re going to make that call, pull over,” Dean said. “Cas and I will manage on our own.”

“You’ve done a hell of a job so far,” Benny said.

A wave of guilt and self-loathing rushed over Dean. The memory of his father’s voice whispered, “Disappointment.” He should have been watching more closely. He should have pushed Castiel into safety.

Castiel’s glow pulsed brighter than before. The flash ran so hot, such a distinct difference from the cool Dean had felt previously, that Dean’s fingertips burned and he pulled away sharply.

“What the hell, Cas?”

Castiel glowed bright again before dimming. Bits of him wrapped around Dean’s hand again, cooling the burns there, almost apologetically.

“We’re going to talk about this later,” Dean said. Castiel cooled further.

“I’ll take you to the safehouse,” Benny said. “I’ll leave you there, but I’m going back. I’m making the call.”

“Leave Cas out of it,” Dean said.

“Dean –”

“Please, Benny,” Dean said. “Just…” He took a breath. “Please.” _I can’t lose him._ Dean wished he could say it aloud, but he couldn’t – not yet. Castiel seemed to know though, turning warm again. When Dean instinctively pulled away, he quickly cooled though, and held on. Dean wondered what Cas was thinking, if it was anything like, _I can’t lose you either._

Dean was afraid to hope.


	4. Breathtaking Imperfection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean attempts to nurse Cas back to health.

Benny’s safe house was a small cottage on the far side of town. He had driven his cruiser off the main highway and then down a dirt road for ten minutes to a secluded field surrounded by a ring of thick forest. The house sat dilapidated-looking at its center.

“Ain’t much to look at,” Benny said. “But it gets the job done.” He stopped his car for Dean, carrying Castiel, to exit, but Dean hesitated to close the passenger side door once he was outside.

“Benny,” Dean said. There was so much to say, so many things Dean wasn’t _ready_ to say, words like, I’m sorry or don’t do this or you’ve always been my friend. But he couldn’t find the voice to say any of them, so he settled on, “Don’t get dead.”

“I’ll make an effort,” Benny said with a bemused half-smile. He pointed at Castiel still clinging to Dean’s arms and chest. “You take care of jelly bean there.”

“I will,” Dean said.

Benny nodded and Dean closed the door. Without another word, Benny backed the cruiser in a three-point turn and came back the way they’d came. With a heavy weight in his stomach, Dean wondered if he’d ever see Benny again. 

Then he wondered how _this_ became his life. Then his headache throbbed and he wondered if there was any beer in the fridge.

The inside of the cottage wasn’t much more impressive than the outside. Everything with the exception of the bathroom was crammed into a single room. A kitchen sat against the right side wall as Dean entered, with a small table and two chairs behind it. A couch split the remaining space, facing a television that looked like it had time-traveled right from the fifties. A double bed was pushed against the far corner wall. Dean headed there first.

Castiel’s gooey form was turning colder under Dean’s hands and though his light still flickered, it was dimmer than before, with a much slower pulse. If Cas was Sam, Dean would put him in bed and make some chicken soup, but Cas wasn’t Sam. Hell, Cas wasn’t _human_. But Dean didn’t know what else to do.

Dean sat Castiel on the foot of the bed. The tendrils of Castiel’s true form slipped from their hold on Dean’s arms and wrists immediately, like he had passed out somewhere between the car and the bed. He couldn’t be dead, his light still pulsed. That was like a heartbeat, right? Dean didn’t know, but he had to believe. He couldn’t lose Cas. Not like this.

Dean pulled back the covers of the bed and then looked between the pillow and Castiel. If he tucked Castiel under the covers, would he suffocate? Did aliens need to breathe?

“Okay, new plan,” Dean said to himself and hurried to the chest at the bedside. He retrieved all of the blankets within and dropped them on top of the mattress. He wound them together and in a circle, making a bit of a bird’s nest. Then he picked up Castiel and plopped him right in the center of it. He tucked the blankets as close as he could around Castiel without completely smothering him and then stepped back to appreciate his handiwork. Castiel looked lost in a sea of blankets, but the top of him was exposed for air if he needed it and the blankets would keep him warm. “Perfect,” Dean said, hoping that was truth.

Then he moved to each of the four windows and drew the curtains. They were thick and blocked most of the sunlight which might hurt Castiel’s eyes when - _if_ \- he switched back to human form.

Dean frowned. A pain twisted deep in his chest at the thought of never seeing Castiel in his gorgeous human form again, but he quickly pushed that fear away. As long as Castiel was okay, Dean didn’t care what he looked like. This was probably for the best anyway. Dean was getting a little too attached to Castiel’s hipbones and -

_Stop._

To keep himself busy and his mind otherwise occupied so that it would not return to dangerous porny thoughts, Dean crossed the room to the kitchen. The canned food filled the cabinets. Dean skimmed over a few before he found and retrieved the can marked ‘Chicken Noodle Soup.’ 

The fridge was empty except for a jar of mayonnaise and a six pack of light beer. Dean immediately reached for a bottle and popped the top. Even if he drank the entire six pack, he wouldn’t get a buzz, but he hoped that one or two might ease his withdrawal headache.

He found a pan in the cabinet above the sink and placed it on the stove top. His hands shook as he opened the can of soup and poured the lukewarm liquid and noodles into the pan. He took a long swig of beer, hoping that would ease his nerves but the beer just wasn’t strong enough. He couldn’t stop thinking about Castiel naked, warm under Dean’s hands and body. Would he moan if Dean kissed along his neck? Though all sexy thoughts died the minute Dean’s thoughts switched from Castiel naked to Castiel dead.

He finished his beer not long after that.

When the chicken soup warmed, he poured some into a bowl with a spoon and walked it over to Castiel’s bedside. Castiel hadn’t moved, still wrapped in the blankets, and Dean began to feel a little ridiculous standing there holding a bowl of chicken soup. Cas didn’t have a mouth in his true form, that Dean could tell. There was no way for him to even eat the soup.

“You’re such a fuck-up, Winchester,” Dean said and, careful not to let the soup spill, moved himself over to the couch and plopped down. He held the warm bowl in his lap as he rested his head on the back of the couch and stared up at the ceiling. “Dad was right.”

A gruff voice sounded from the sea of blankets. “Why must you always think so lowly of yourself?”

“Cas?”

Now in human form, Castiel looked like a burrito all wrapped up in blankets with only his face sticking through the hole. Yet despite his mostly ridiculous appearance, his expression was serious with a heavy frown on his lips. Somehow, even though he was squinting against the dim light, Castiel managed a glare.

“I don’t like it when you belittle yourself,” he said.

“Okay, Cas. Okay.” Dean placed the bowl of soup on the end table and rose from the couch to walk to the bedside. He wanted to reach out and touch Castiel’s forehead to check his temperature but he didn’t know if that would be appropriate. Would he even be able to tell if Cas had a fever? Did aliens get fevers?

“It’s not okay, Dean.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Cas -”

“You saved my life,” Cas said. Dean folded his arms over his chest just as Castiel added, softer, “Again.”

Dean couldn’t take much more of the adoration in Castiel’s features so he said, “Yeah, well, don’t make me start regretting it.” No sooner had the words left his mouth than he regretted them. Castiel’s face fell and the blanket burrito he was buried in slumped, looking smaller.

“I understand,” Castiel said. “I’m sorry I’ve been such a burden to you.” 

Before Dean could correct him and tell him he wasn’t a burden but someone Dean kind of liked having around - except for the whole being chased and shot at bit - Castiel shifted back to his true form. All of the blankets fell away and he hovered above them. Then he started moving for the door.

“What are you doing?” Dean asked, slightly panicked. “Are you - Are you leaving?”

Castiel’s light flashed brightly, blinding Dean for a moment. Dean tried to give chase, but he couldn’t see and tripped over the couch. His shoulder hit the end table and the bowl of soup toppled off the other side, spilling out onto the floor.

“Oh!” Dean choked off his cry as he watched the soup seep between the floorboards and the noodles stain the top. Useless. Waste of time. _Disappointment._

He tried to tell himself that it didn’t matter. Cas didn’t want the soup because Cas wasn’t staying. But that thought only made everything worse. _Everyone leaves._

Dean didn’t move from the floor. He didn’t push himself up off his stomach. Maybe he belonged here with the ruined soup. Maybe in a few days, Benny would find him and tell him that this whole thing had just been one terrible bender. Maybe Benny would put him in jail. Maybe he belonged in jail.

A warm hand touched Dean’s shoulder and Castiel’s voice, calm and steady, came from close behind him. “I shouldn’t have done that,” he said. “I apologize.” He took a breath that wobbled at the end. “Please, Dean. I’m sorry.”

“You were leaving,” Dean said into the floorboards. Castiel didn’t deny it. “Go on. Don’t draw this out.”

“I’m not leaving,” Castiel said, voice a little stronger. 

“But -”

“You are the most frustrating creature I have ever encountered, Dean Winchester,” Castiel said, somehow encompassing both fondness and annoyance into his tone at once. “You say things to me that you do not mean.”

He was right, of course, but Dean wasn’t eager to admit it. “How do you know that?” When Castiel didn’t answer right away, Dean glanced over his shoulder to see Castiel’s face, which had turned beet red. “Cas?”

“I saw inside of you,” Castiel said and raked his bottom lip with his teeth. “I’m sorry.”

Dean blinked. “What?”

“When you... When we touched, with our true forms...” Castiel paused to lick his lips. Dean tracked the movement of that pink tongue as it appeared and disappeared. The green light flickered across Castiel’s skin.

And suddenly Dean remembered back to earlier at his house when Castiel talked about merging forms and...

“Oh my God, you had alien sex with me,” Dean said.

“Oh! Oh, no!” Castiel said at once. He snatched back his hand and his skin shimmered twice in quick succession. “It wasn’t like that! I mean, _essentially_ there are similarities but -”

“Not helping, Cas,” Dean said and finally pulled himself off the floorboards. He sat up and rested his arms on his knees. Then he rubbed his eyes. When he opened them to look at Castiel, he realized quite suddenly that Castiel was naked. 

Of course he was. His clothes were back in the woods by Dean’s house.

Castiel’s dark blush traveled down onto his chest. The rest of his skin looked flushed though not nearly as red. Dean was going to look away - he _was_ \- when Castiel’s flicker drew Dean’s attention to between Castiel’s legs and Dean saw a twitch of growing interest there. His own body reacted tenfold.

“I’ve seen inside of you,” Castiel said. His gaze was on Dean’s hands which flexed tightly, gripping at pant legs. “I know you now.” Castiel swallowed. “I know you in nearly every way there is to know a person.”

Dean knew he should be angry or freaked out or something, but if what Castiel said was true then he knew everything inside of Dean that would make a sensible person want to run away. Yet here he stayed.

“I’m not a good person,” Dean said.

Castiel growled, “I don’t like when you say such things.”

“Well, it’s true,” Dean persisted, giving Castiel an easy out. If Castiel agreed, he could leave. If he didn’t...

“You are imperfect,” Castiel said, raising his ice blue - albeit somewhat squinty, though still somehow intense and hot - gaze to meet Dean’s. “But that imperfection is... breathtaking. _You_ are breathtaking.”

“Cas,” Dean whispered, and when had he started leaning forward?

Fortunately Cas was leaning forward too. “Dean, I’d really like it if you would kiss me now.”


	5. What I Have With You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’m a prince,” Castiel said. “And as a prince, I’m required to fulfill certain obligations – for my country, and for my family.”
> 
> Dean didn’t like the sound of that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for such an extended hiatus. This story constantly sits on the back of my mind, and I really hate that I abandoned it for so long. I can't promise to finish it with any sort of haste, but I can promise to want to. *fingers crossed* (And thank you so much for your patience and support *hugs*)

((Additional Warnings: Mentions of previous Dean/other, non-specific and definitely past))

Dean licked his lips. He watched as Castiel did, too, wetting those soft pink, plump lips.

Inside Dean’s chest, his heart picked up a thunderous pace. He’d kissed hundreds of pairs of lips before, but never, not even that first time, had he been this nervous – this _excited_. He couldn’t put his finger on why, exactly. Castiel was hot, and he was sweet. But Dean had been with hot, sweet people before. Still, there was something about Castiel that pushed him lightyears ahead of anyone Dean’s ever liked before, and this wasn’t anything new. Dean had been gone from the first moment he looked into those inhuman blue eyes. And if it wasn’t that far back, it was certainly at the moment Castiel looked at Dean, all wide-eyed and earnest, and said, “I’m going to protect you,” like it was his goddamn job – like _Dean_ was somehow the most important person in the whole universe.

Dean brushed his lips lightly against Castiel’s, teasing at first – testing. Through lowered lashes, he watched Castiel’s skin flicker green once, twice, three times in a quickening speed. Each pass of light send a painless zap through Dean’s lips. It tickled more than hurt, a low buzz of energy, or something electric that sparked hot, passionate, between them. Dean pressed closer, craving more, though always remembering himself. He kept the kiss closed-lipped as he tried to press all of his lips against Castiel’s. Castiel’s lips moved with his, pliant and malleable. 

Castiel’s fingers threaded through Dean’s hair, holding him close, urging him closer. Dean gripped at Castiel’s shoulders, then followed the trail of the green flicker down Castiel’s arms to his elbows where he held on tight.

Castiel’s mouth opened. With the slightest hesitation, he licked at Dean’s lips. Dean immediately allowed that tongue entrance, then caught it and traced along the side of it with his own tongue.

Castiel breathed sharp and pressed closer. He all but sat in Dean’s lap. Dean wouldn’t have minded if he did.

Dean wrapped his arms around Castiel’s bare torso, hands mapping out the wide expanse of hot skin of Castiel’s back. Castiel’s flicker tingled Dean’s mouth and then his fingers – even the parts of Dean’s arms that brushed against Castiel’s bare skin.

Idly, Dean wondered what it would be like to be naked with Castiel. Would he feel that same spark through all of his body?

Dean moaned at the thought and Castiel gasped.

“Dean,” Castiel said, voice breathy and _wrecked_.

Dean’s dick swelled in his pants. _Holy shit_ Castiel was so fucking hot. Dean felt like a teenager; he couldn’t stop pawing at Castiel’s body. Castiel kept moaning and writhing and Dean swallowed down each noise with his mouth and his tongue.

Castiel’s tongue chased Dean’s back into Dean’s mouth.

Dean lowered one hand, down to the small of Castiel’s back, and further to the curve of Castiel’s backside. Castiel’s ass was round and tight. Dean cupped a globe in one hand and squeezed.

Castiel broke their kiss to cry out. His eyes shut tight, his skin flickered green – fast and faster. He breathed Dean’s name – and then poofed into his original form, hovering just above Dean’s lap.

With the weight of Castiel’s sudden disappearance, Dean lurched forward. The hand that had been cupping Castiel’s ass smacked himself on the forehead.

He probably deserved it.

Castiel hung in the air above him, blue light pulsing quickly. He pulled tight in on himself, small and opaque, and though Dean was still ridiculously horny, worry for Castiel quashed any thoughts he had of finishing anything.

“Cas? Buddy, what’s wrong?” Dean asked. He reached out a hand for Castiel but Castiel pulled away from him.

Dean frowned and terrible, dark tendrils curled around his insides, quashing any warmth that had developed near his heart. Did Castiel… regret what just happened between them?

Dean pulled his hand back into his lap. He sat very still. Maybe if he didn’t move, if he didn’t think, he could go back to a time where he hadn’t ruined everything – hadn’t hurt everyone he dared to care about.

A cool pseudo-liquid tendril brushed across Dean’s stubble-covered cheek.

Dean hadn’t realized he’d been crying.

“I’m sorry,” Dean said.

Castiel flashed so bright, Dean had to squeeze his eyes shut. Another tendril arm curled around Dean’s shoulder. A bruise was still there, under Dean’s shirt, from where Castiel had grabbed him hard enough to bruise when they were making their escape. It burned a little, where Castiel touched, but then he pulled away and nothing hurt at all.

“What was that?” Dean asked. He rolled up his sleeve and the bruise was totally gone. “You can heal?”

Castiel flashed again, softer this time. He lowered himself to the floor and shifted into his human form. He sat on his knees with his hands clutched together on his thighs. A blush dusted his cheeks. He avoided Dean’s eyes.

“I can heal,” Castiel said, staring hard at the floor. He took a shaky breath. “I can heal physical wounds, but not hurt caused from my own callous actions.”

Dean shook his head. He wanted to reach for Castiel, to pull him into his arms for a hug. He hated seeing him so damned dejected. Castiel’s bottom lip quivered. He looked downright miserable. But Dean didn’t dare touch Castiel again.

“It was my fault,” Dean said. “I shouldn’t have… I should have kept my hands to myself.”

“What? No!” Castiel said, eyes widening. His gaze snapped back to Dean, all sadness vanishing. In its place, he looked – embarrassed? His blush deepened. “I wanted… what we were doing.”

“Cas, it’s okay,” Dean started.

Castiel huffed, “I wanted to kiss you, Dean! I wanted more!” Then he looked down at the floor again. His shoulders curled in. “I just… I became too… excited. I couldn’t maintain my human form.”

Dean blinked. _Wait._ “You mean you… ?” _Oh my God_ , how was Dean supposed to ask an alien if he just orgasmed himself into his true form?

Castiel’s blush spreads down his neck and across his shoulders. “I’ve never… that is to say…” He glanced up at Dean. “I’ve never bonded before. Our connection is… intense.”

“You mean…?” 

“I’ve never been this close with anyone before,” Castiel said. “Not my kind. Not yours. Not… anyone. I’ve never even wanted to touch true forms with anyone and I’ve never… kissed.” He wrung his hands together. “It was pleasurable, and I never… I’ve never experienced something so pleasurable.”

Dean swallowed hard. _Holy shit_ , his brain blared on repeat. Super smoking-hot Castiel was an alien virgin. Dean didn’t know how it was possible, but he also couldn’t give a shit. Castiel had maybe never wanted to be with anyone before, but he wanted to be with Dean. Dean understood the magnitude of that.

“I’ll understand,” Castiel continued, “If this revelation makes me less desirable…”

“Are you kidding me?” Dean asked.

Castiel frowned. “I am aware that your kind tends to have a preference for those more experienced.”

Dean scooted closer until their knees bumped together. He reached forward and took Castiel’s hands in his. Then he brought them to his lips and kissed each of Castiel’s knuckles.

“I don’t care about that, Cas,” Dean said. “I don’t care how many forms you met, or how many people you kissed or didn’t kiss.” He looked up and found Castiel staring at him, hope sparkling in those pale blues. “I only care about you. If you want this. If you want… _me_.” Dean glanced away. “I’m not a catch, Cas. I’m a massive fuck-up and I –“

Dean stopped talking because he had to – because Castiel’s lips were on his again. The kiss was softer this time, just a small, chaste thing, and then Castiel was pulling back, face still red but with a new, determined glint in his eye. His mouth stayed a hard line.

“Dean Winchester, I will smother you in love if I must,” he said. “Whatever it takes to get you to stop hating yourself.”

Dean’s fingers tingled as Castiel’s flicker reached them. They stayed tingly for a bit after that.

“I just don’t want to disappoint you,” Dean said. “I mess things up, Cas. I always do. I’ll… I’ll mess this up, too.”

“No,” Castiel said. “You won’t.” And kissed him again.

Castiel had said he could only heal physical wounds, but Dean doubted. His kisses, soft and peppered all over Dean’s face, were like a balm for Dean’s fragile heart. He felt stronger near Castiel. Powerful. Like he could do anything, be anybody – be the person Castiel saw when he looked at him. Dean wanted to be all that Castiel needed.

He wanted to be all _he_ needed, too.

They kissed for a while, but never pushed it farther. They broke when Dean’s stomach rumbled. Dean sent Castiel in search of some clothes as he cleaned up the soup he spilled earlier. Then he went to the kitchen to make himself some soup. He called to Castiel, asking if he wanted some too.

Castiel excitedly replied, “I would love to try human food.”

Dean smiled as he pulled out a second can from the cabinet. He was at the stove when Castiel returned from across the room. He wore a pair of gray sweatpants and a blue sweatshirt pull-over hoodie that still had the tags on it. Dean beckoned Castiel closer and ripped the tags free. Then he kissed Castiel’s cheek. Castiel’s green light flickered as he smiled.

“Sit,” Dean said, and Castiel went over to the small table. He pulled out a chair and sat down. Dean poured the soup into two bowls and followed him. He placed down the bowls, then went back for drinks. “Water, okay?”

“Yes. Thank you, Dean,” Castiel said.

Dean retrieved a glass from the cabinet. He filled it with water and took it to Castiel. Then he returned to the fridge, pulled it open, and instinctively reached for a beer. He stopped himself halfway. He glanced over his shoulder to Castiel, who sat there smiling, waiting. Dean closed the fridge and got himself a glass of water instead.

Mimicking Dean, Castiel picked up a spoon and dipped it into the soup. He blew on it, then brought it to his mouth. He swallowed it down and then gasped, a wide grin splitting his face. “That’s delicious!” he announced.

Dean laughed. “It’s just soup. You should try burgers.”

“Burgers?” Castiel asked. At Dean’s nod, he said, “Do you think we could?”

“Some night, sure,” Dean said without thinking. But then he remembered they were stuck here. They were… chased. Dean waited until Castiel had eaten more to bring it up. He didn’t know how Castiel’s alien biology worked, but for humans, hungry usually meant healthy. Dean really wanted to keep it that way for as long as possible.

When Castiel scraped the last bit from the bottom of his bowl and Dean was done too, Dean pushed his bowl away, locked eyes with Castiel, and said, “Cas, what do those guys want? Why are they after you?”

Castiel’s smile faded, and Dean kind of hated himself a little for having to take it away. Still, if he was going to help Castiel – if they were going to _survive_ \- Dean had to know what they were dealing with.

“They want me dead,” Castiel said.

“Yeah, gathered that,” Dean said. “But why? Who are they?”

Castiel looked around the room. His gaze fell on the couch. “May we sit?” he asked. “I’d rather…” His voice trailed. The blue light in his eyes dimmed, ever so slightly.

“Whatever you want,” Dean said. He grabbed Castiel’s bowl and his own and took them to the sink. Then he walked back to Castiel. He held out his hand and when Castiel took it, together they walked to the couch. Dean sat first. Castiel curled in close beside him. Their hands stayed clasped.

Castiel shook a little, so Dean snaked a hand around Castiel’s back, holding him close. 

“I’m a prince,” Castiel said. Before Dean could really process that, Castiel continued, “And as a prince, I’m required to fulfill certain obligations – for my country, and for my family.”

Dean didn’t like the sound of that, or the way Castiel’s voice took on a lilt. His arm tightened, holding Castiel just a bit closer. Castiel rested his face against Dean’s chest.

“They sold me to the King of a rival planet. I thought I was only to be a political ambassador, but Crowley – that’s the King’s name. He intended… differently.” Castiel took a deep, shaky breath. “I was to heal him as he fought down a just rebellion waged against him. And I did.” Castiel’s light flickered slow. “I did what I was told.”

“Its okay, Cas,” Dean whispered. He squeezed Castiel’s waist, trying his hardest to be comforting when all he really wanted was to dig up Castiel’s spaceship, fly to whoever Crowley was, and make good and sure the asshole never made Castiel do anything he didn’t want to do ever again. “You aren’t there anymore.”

“Crowley came to me one night,” Castiel said. “He wanted…” Castiel’s fingers curled into Dean’s shirt. “He wanted me to bind myself to him.”

Dean’s mouth felt suddenly dry. “Like… touch true forms?”

Castiel nodded. “It forms a bond. It makes it easier to heal and I can… feel everything. And because I had never bonded to anyone before, the bond would be the strongest possible.”

“You touched my true form,” Dean said.

“Yes,” Castiel said. “He wanted what I have with you.”

Dean’s anger spiked furiously in his chest. He wanted to growl and murder and _keep safe_. Protect. 

“I ran,” Castiel said. “I contacted my homeworld, but my Uncle Zachariah… he said he knew. He always knew. He told me to go back. He said I’d start a war if I didn’t.”

“Cas.”

“They want me dead now, Dean,” Castiel said. He hid his face in Dean’s shoulder. “Crowley, he told them… He sent a message universe wide so I’d be sure to hear it, too. If my kind don’t find and kill me as punishment, he will bring war to them.” Castiel sniffled. “Dean, if they don’t kill me, thousands, maybe millions could die.” His body shook. His glimmer picked up speed. “But I don’t want to die!”

Dean stroked his hand down Castiel’s back. He kissed Castiel’s hair. The longer ends tickled his nose. “There has to be another way, Cas. We’ll find another way.” He didn’t have a clue where to start looking, but there had to be something they – 

“There is,” Castiel said, voice small. “I could give myself up.”

Yeah. “No.”

“I could return to Crowley,” Castiel said. Damp spots wet Dean’s shirt beneath Castiel’s face. “I could bind with him… like he wants.”

“ _No_ ,” Dean said more forcefully. He reached up, cupped Castiel’s cheek with his hand, and urged his face upward so Dean could look him right in the eye. “I won’t let them kill you and I won’t let anyone touch you who you don’t want to. I promise you, we’ll think of something. There has to be something.”

Castiel’s eyes were shiny and wet. His nose was red from crying. But at Dean’s promise, he still smiled a little. It wobbled but held.

“I won’t let him have you, Cas,” Dean said, protectiveness surging.

“Dean,” Castiel said so reverently that Dean’s chest tightened. Castiel released Dean’s shirt to reach up and touch Dean’s cheek, mirroring Dean’s hand on his. “Whatever happens, I am so glad I met you.”

Dean didn’t even want to think about Castiel landing in anyone else’s yard. The FBI would have had him for sure, if he hadn’t been killed by…

Dean let the thought drop. The very notion of a dead Castiel made Dean feel cold inside.

Dean found Castiel’s lips with his own. “I’ll protect you,” he promised.

Maybe he always screwed everything up. Maybe he was his father’s biggest disappointment.

But he wouldn’t fail Castiel.

Castiel, all wide trusting eyes, whispered only, “I believe you.”


	6. Our Bond Is Strong

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “If we touched true forms again…”
> 
> “We’ve already done that,” Dean said. “And it’s nice, but how –“
> 
> “If we touched…” Castiel paused. “More.”
> 
> Anything Dean meant to say fizzled right out of his head. “More?”
> 
> Castiel’s blush deepened. “Yes.”

_I believe you._

Dean’s lonely heart ached for this perfect, wonderful creature in his arms. He had no idea how he got to be so lucky. Castiel could have landed anywhere, in anyone’s yard, but it was Dean’s he found. It was Dean he touched. It was Dean he bonded with.

They were in terrible danger from Castiel’s people and from Crowley’s. Hell, if Benny spilled the beans on this whole alien thing, then probably the FBI was after them, too. But even with all that – with hell itself practically standing on their doorstep – happiness tugged at Dean’s insides. _God_ , he was happy. He couldn’t even remember the last time he felt like this.

A small smile tugged at Castiel’s lips. He stared at Dean with so much adoration that Dean had to break their eye contact. He glanced down instead to where Castiel’s fingers gripped tight on Dean’s shirt.

“What’s the smile for?” Dean asked, shy.

Castiel’s smile widened, all teeth and gums. “I can feel your happiness. It’s mingling with my own.”

“But we aren’t touching true forms.” 

“Our bond is strong.” A faint blush dusted Castiel’s cheeks. “Can’t you feel it?”

Dean furrowed his brow. He paused a moment, considering, but no, the only emotions he felt were his own. Castiel sat still, staring – waiting. Dean shrugged. “Sorry, Cas.”

Castiel’s smile wavered, but only for a moment. “It must be different for you, since you are always in your true form.”

“I wish I was like you.” Dean hated the look in Castiel’s eyes, the one that whispered, Disappointment. More than that, though, Dean felt it of himself. How could he hope to be an adequate partner for Castiel if he could not do for Castiel all that Castiel could do for him? “I wish I could feel it.”

Castiel’s gaze traveled from Dean’s eyes to his nose and then to his lips, his chin, his jaw, and down to his neck. “There might be a way.”

“What?” Dean asked. “How?”

“If we touched true forms again…”

“We’ve already done that,” Dean said. “And it’s nice, but how –“

“If we touched…” Castiel paused. “More.”

Anything Dean meant to say fizzled right out of his head. “More?”

Castiel’s blush deepened. “Yes.”

“Like, _more_ more?” 

Castiel nodded. 

“Cas, are you sure you’re thinking what I’m thinking?” Dean asked, as his mind became a blurry, kinky alien sex porno, flickering in and out like the nudie channel his television sometimes picked up. Dean, sweaty and panting. Cas, in his weird marshmallow form expanding to the length of him, the cool goo of his true form pressing against every inch of Dean – even his throbbing dick.

_Jesus, Winchester. Cool your fucking jets._

Castiel’s entire face burned bright red.

_Oh, shit. The_ bond _. Great. Yep. Now he knows you’re a kinky bastard._

“Cas, look, I didn’t mean to –”

“You are aroused,” Castiel said.

There wasn’t a hole deep enough for Dean to hide from his embarrassment.

“It isn’t… It’s just that… I can explain,” Dean started, stumbling over words. How the hell was he supposed to talk his way out of this one? _Was_ there a way? Should he just apologize? “I’m sorry,” he said and hung his head.

Castiel reached up and cupped Dean’s face with his palm. Dean avoided looking at him, even when he ducked to try to sneak into the line of Dean’s vision. 

“Dean.” Castiel shimmered green and it tickled Dean’s face.

Dean still wouldn’t look.

“ _Dean_ ,” Castiel said again, voice softer, deeper. “I am also aroused.”

Dean blinked. “What?”

Castiel dropped his hand from Dean’s face and with it, reached around to find Dean’s hand at his waist. Taking Dean’s wrist, Castiel brought Dean’s hand back to the space between them and then pressed it to the front of his sweatpants.

Castiel moaned. 

_Holy shit_ , Castiel was rock hard already. Was that from the bond? Could he feel Dean’s arousal? Did it turn Castiel on to know how bad Dean wanted him, even in his true form?

And _holy fucking shit_ , knowing his arousal turned Castiel on, turned Dean on all the more.

Through the thin fabric of Castiel’s sweatpants, Dean could trace the entire length of Castiel’s hard cock. _Jesus_ , Castiel wasn’t wearing underwear.

Castiel bucked into Dean’s sturdy fingers. He gasped, “ _Dean_.”

Dean dropped his mouth to Castiel’s neck. He licked then sucked hard to form a mark.

Panting, Castiel grinded into Dean’s hand. “Oh, Dean.”

Dean broke from Castiel’s skin with a pop. He kissed and licked the freshly bruised flesh, but when Castiel shimmered, the mark vanished.

“Again,” Castiel insisted, voice throaty and raw.

Dean smiled against Castiel’s neck. “You’ll just heal it up, Cas.”

“I don’t care. Please, Dean. Please.”

Dean moved without hesitation, reattaching his mouth and sucking _hard_.

“Dean!” Cas cried out. His fingers clawed at Dean’s shoulders. He tugged weakly at Dean’s shirt. “I want this _off_.”

Dean kissed the new mark until it disappeared with the next green shimmer.

“I want you _naked_ ,” Castiel growled.

Dean laughed, even as his dick twitched, hardening fully. “Bossy, baby?”

Castiel stuffed his hands up Dean’s shirt. When the green shimmer passed those hands, it tingled Dean’s skin at his shoulders. Dean shuddered. Then, with haste, he reached down, grabbed the waist of his t-shirt, and yanked it over his head.

He sought out Castiel’s lips with his own and locked them together for a searing kiss. His hands combed through Castiel’s hair and rubbed the longer ends between his fingers. Castiel broke their kiss to gasp out a breath.

Castiel dropped his face to Dean’s collarbone. His shoulders heaved. Dean stilled his hands, unwilling to push Castiel further than he wanted to go.

“Intense,” Castiel breathed.

“We’ll slow down,” Dean offered.

“ _No_ ,” Castiel said. “Can you feel it? I want you to feel it.”

“It’s hot, Cas. You’re amazing.”

Castiel pulled away to look up. His face was flushed and pupils dilated. But even with the lust-heavy weight in his features, his eyes held a determination that Dean couldn’t turn away from. He didn’t want to.

“I want to change to my true form,” Castiel said, strained. “I want to try to deepen our bond. If you want to, too.”

“Fuck, _yes_.”

“If it works, you will feel my pleasure as I feel yours. You will… know. Dean, it’s so…” Castiel moaned, presumably from the surge of Dean’s arousal, heightened by even the prospect of feeling what Castiel felt.

Dean took Castiel’s face in his hands and led their mouths together. He licked at Castiel’s lips. Immediately, Castiel opened his mouth and Dean pushed his tongue inside. 

“I want this with you,” Dean said.

Castiel leaned back to stare down at Dean with wide, trusting eyes.

Dean had no idea how he got to this moment. The idea of trust, of devotion, of _love_ was foreign, but with Castiel, it all felt right. He wanted this. He wanted _Cas_ so much, it scared him a little. But shit, he was ready for more. He was ready for everything so long as Castiel was there too.

“I want… I want _you_ , Cas.”

Castiel’s lips parted. His eyes sparkled with so much admiration, it neared worship, and Dean swore he could almost feel it deep in his chest.

“I want you, too, Dean.” Castiel crushed their lips together for a deep kiss, punctuated by several smaller kisses up and down Dean’s jaw. “I want this with you, too.”

Dean’s heart burst with warmth. His smile felt easy. “Then change to your true form, baby. We’ve got some bonding to do.” 

“Dean.” 

Dean met Castiel’s mouth, just once more. Then Castiel flashed white and disappeared into his true form. He kept himself small, a tight round ball hovering just above Dean’s lap.

“Cas.” Dean lifted his hand up toward Castiel. He stopped just before he could touch, but when Castiel didn’t pull away, Dean pressed onward, gently petting the outer edge of Castiel’s bunched up form.

Castiel felt cool and silky under Dean’s hand, though with each pulse of light came heat – not hot enough to burn, more like the comfortable warmth of a heating blanket. Slowly, Castiel’s form expanded, until he entirely engulfed Dean’s hand. Warm tendrils curled around Dean’s forearm, caressing Dean’s skin.

_God, this is weird_ , Dean thought, like sticking his hand into a cotton candy machine. But beneath the soft plush body of Castiel’s true form, was his pulsing warm light. And deep in the recesses of Dean’s mind, he could almost hear Castiel’s voice whisper, _Yes_. Whisper, _More_.

And Dean wanted more, too. We wanted to feel that pulsing light – that _heat_ – all around him until it swallowed him whole.

“More,” Dean breathed.

Castiel stretched his true form further, until it was the length and width of Dean’s torso. Then he pressed forward, and Dean felt the silky texture of Castiel’s true form against the entire expanse of his naked chest.

“Oh my _God_ ,” Dean gasped. His head fell back against the lip of the couch, exposing his neck, which Castiel immediately stretched to and pressed against.

Castiel’s pulse flashed against Dean’s chest, warming and cooling in tandem. Dean’s nipples perked and hardened. Castiel must have felt them – he pinched them with tendrils of his true form.

“ _Fuck_!” 

Castiel’s pulse quickened. Dean curled his arms around Castiel’s true form, holding him close against his chest. 

Castiel released Dean’s nipples to caress them with the same cool tendrils instead. _Shit_ , it felt just like a tongue – like _two_ tongues, one on each nipple, lapping away. Then, Castiel pinched again. Dean gasped. 

His hips shot up, rock hard cock searching for friction. He could only rut against the inside of his jeans. It wasn’t enough. He wanted more. He wanted _Cas_.

In his mind, like a whisper, he heard Castiel’s voice, “Naked.”

_Shit!_ “I’ll never make it that far – if-if you don’t give me a minute!” 

Castiel released Dean’s nipples, lapped at them tenderly with a few long strokes, then slowly pulled away. He didn’t diminish his size, nearly moved away, hovering in the air around Dean’s knees.

Dean took a minute to just breathe. This was the strangest thing he’d ever done, but shit if it wasn’t the hottest.

“Hurt?” Castiel’s voice echoed quietly in Dean’s mind.

“No, baby, I’m not hurt,” Dean said aloud.

Castiel reached out a tendril and caressed Dean’s arm. “Good.”

Dean blinked as he waited for the lust to ebb enough for him to think clearly. When it did, he realized he was actually having a conversation with Castiel, somehow, even though Castiel can’t speak human in blob form.

“This is working,” Dean said, because he couldn’t quite believe it.

“Yes,” Castiel said in Dean’s head, and somehow, in addition to hearing his words, Dean could feel Castiel’s emotions, not as strong as his own but there, like under a glass case in a museum.

Dean knew Castiel was pleased.

And really, _really_ horny.

“More?” Castiel asked.

“More,” Dean said.

“Naked.” Castiel managed to convey grumpy even as a disembodied voice and a ball of gooey light.

Dean laughed. He leaned forward and smashed his face into Castiel’s true form to kiss him. He had no idea if he landed anywhere near Castiel’s mouth – or if Castiel even had a mouth in that form.

_Close enough_ , he decided, after ripples of happiness not entirely his own washed across his heart.

“Bed,” Castiel suggested. “Comfortable.”

The old couch beneath him was lumpy with zero back support. Though Dean’s libido might not appreciate any more delays, his back would surely thank him later.

“Yeah, okay.”

Castiel floated away toward the bed and Dean hurried, scrambling to follow. He unbuckled his pants along the way and shimmied out of them. They got lost somewhere between the couch and the bed. His boxers, too.

Dean dropped onto the bed and crawled up to the pillows. He rested on his back atop the covers, with his head on the pillows and his knees bent, feet flat on the mattress.

Castiel moved close, hovering just above Dean. His true form expanded again until he was as long and wide as Dean’s body. The further Castiel stretched, the more his lighter edges pulled from his darker blue insides. With so much revealed, Dean could see tiny sparkles deep in the blue – twinkling like stars, like the night sky itself.

“You’re beautiful,” Dean whispered. The embarrassment he felt was not his own until Castiel returned the sentiment. 

“ _You_.”

Castiel dropped slowly, though quicker once Dean reached out for him.

“Get down here, baby.”

Castiel’s tendrils curled around Dean’s hands. Others entwined with Dean’s legs from thigh to ankle. Castiel draped the main expanse of his true form across Dean’s torso – his shoulders, chest, and hips. When the cool silky press of Castiel’s body hugged Dean’s erection, Dean choked off a cry. His hips sprung upward of their own volition. 

Pleasure spiked. “ _Cas_ ,” Dean moaned just as Castiel whispered Dean’s name in Dean’s head. “Fuck.”

Cool tendrils reached out to embrace Dean. One lapped curiously down Dean’s front, from his neck to chest to stomach to navel. Dean lifted his hips, urging it closer to his dick. When it finally closed around the head of Dean’s cock, Dean cried out - _loud_.

“More, Cas. _Please_.”

Another tendril aided the first, curling around the base of Dean’s cock. “Shit!” Dean yelled as a third cupped his balls. A fourth slid into the dip of his ass.

Dean clung blindly at Castiel’s true form, holding gooey silk as all four tendrils moved, stroking and caressing and prodding and – 

The fourth tendril pressed against Dean’s rim. _Shit_ , it felt like a tongue there, too, licking him open with long laps. The tendrils on his dick were not so gentle, gripping tight and stroking at a fast, restless pace.

Dean couldn’t think. He could only feel hot pleasure. 

Intense. So goddamn intense.

Dean pushed his hips up with the rhythm of the tendrils. The head of his dick brushing against the silky body of Castiel’s true form. Castiel’s light pulse quickened in time with Dean’s hips, so that each touch sent a sear of heat straight through Dean’s cock.

The pleasure Dean felt at the touch was not just his own. Inside his head, Dean could hear Castiel chanting, _Yes_ , and, _More_ , and then, loudly, _Inside me_!

“Inside you, _fuck_! I want to fuck you, Cas. _Shit_ , I want to fuck you.”

The tendrils withdrew from around Dean’s dick, yet before Dean could even think to miss their absence, Castiel lowered himself further, swallowing Dean’s whole throbbing cock into the body of his true form. The light pulse flashed and seared the entirety of Dean’s dick in warm silky heat. The tendrils at Dean’s ass pushed up past the rim. 

“C-C-Cas!” Dean cried - _screamed_ \- as pleasure exploded inside of him, both his and Castiel’s. Hot white streaks of come erupted from Dean’s dick, coating inside of Castiel’s true form.

Dean’s body shook with the weight of his orgasm. Sweat coated his skin. He struggled to catch his breath. His limbs were jello, and after Castiel withdrew his tendrils and eased away from Dean’s softening cock, Dean didn’t want to move.

He had never come so hard in his life.

Castiel had said it would be intense. _Understatement_.

He was tired. His eyes felt heavy. He wanted to sleep for hours, and for the first time in a long time, he thought he might actually be able to.

But first, he wanted Cas.

He reached out and caught a shoulder. He peeked open one eye and saw Castiel, naked and human on the bed beside him. He looked how Dean felt – tired, sweaty, and entirely blissed out. A wide grin hung lazy on Castiel’s lips.

“Did it work?” Dean asked, words slurred with exhaustion.

“Do you feel what I feel?” Castiel asked.

Dean paused. He was so happy, warm, and light, but under all that, strumming like a vibrating guitar string, was Castiel’s happiness, too. 

Dean could feel it.

Dean could feel _Cas_.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Expect a new chapter about every week or so! I've been having some trouble keeping to any rigid schedule. :I


End file.
